Seven Nights in Vegas
by rayeux
Summary: Welcome to Las Vegas," Chuck said like an overenthusiastic tour guide. "The home of sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling and of course; the Devil itself." C/B DISCONTINUED. My sincerest apologies.
1. His Paradise, Her Sin City

**Disclaimer:**

I own naught.

**Author's Note:**

I really need reviews on this one. The first real story I wrote tanked, and since then I've always thought there are errors whenever I write stories. (not one-shots) By the way, this first chapter is for addieXmitsume.

**Challenge: **(by my _dear friend _Borgie)

Write a sultry fic for Blair and Chuck.

**Requirements:**

Must have "adult content".

Must take place in a hot destination.

Must make Blair drunk.

That's easy, right? Or not. :P

* * *

**Seven Nights in Vegas**

by Ashlie Rayeux

(a.k.a. rayeux)

**Chapter One**

His Paradise, Her Sin City

_G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S (yeah)_

_We're flying first class,_

_Up in the sky-_

"Hello?" Blair Waldorf answered her cellphone as soon as she got out of the bathroom and wrapped a fluffy blue towel around herself. "Hello? Is anyone there? Chuck, my phone has your caller ID flashing on it. This isn't just like the movies where-"

"I'm an unknown caller and you demand who I am?" Chuck Bass suddenly replied. "Of course it's not, B. Life isn't like the movies. I just wonder when are you going to realize that."

"Chuck, what do you want?" Blair asked harshly, sore because of his last comment.

"Waldorf, have you ever been to Vegas?"

"No."

"I thought so. Come spend a week with me there."

"Why? Are you planning something?"

"Nothing, I swear!" Chuck exclaimed defensively.

"Even if you're not planning anything, which I'm not saying you are, I won't be able to go. This week will be really hectic, because of the fact that my on the job training is with Mom and-"

"Blair," the boy interrupted her. "Calm down for a while. Take a vacation."

"A vacation? With you around? Is that even possible?" the chocolate-haired girl quipped. Chuck thought for a while. "Okay, so maybe you won't get any rest but it'll be fun," he begged. Blair seemed to consider this and said, "Meet me in front of Macy's in fifteen minutes. We'll discuss this."

As soon as Blair hung up, Chuck jumped and pumped his fist once. "YES!" he rejoiced and fixed his tie afterwards, feeling rather daft at his expression of happiness.

* * *

"Bass," Blair greeted with a smile. "You're on time." Her partner-in-crime merely snorted. "There's a first time for everything," he said cockily. "Including the fact that you want me to accompany you to Vegas," Blair returned, a smirk evident in her voice. Chuck scowled and said grudgingly, "You win this round, Blair."

Blair simply laughed and took a seat in the nearby cafe. "Alright. Let's discuss this." Chuck took a seat and faced Blair. "Terms and conditions? Jesus, Waldorf, you always have terms and conditions."

"High maintenance is what makes me Blair Waldorf," she grinned. "But I'm sure we can agree on something."

* * *

A limo pulled up to the lobby of The Palace, Las Vegas. A handsome teen in a flashy suit got out and offered a hand to a beautiful and equally fashionable brunette who slapped his hand away and got out, drawing stares from every man within a 1-mile radius. The whole scene just showed how much Blair and Chuck loved attention.

"Welcome to Las Vegas," Chuck said like an overenthusiastic tour guide. "The home of sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling and of course; the Devil itself."

Blair chuckled. "You forgot Chuck Bass," she reminded him.

"Oh, I included that in 'the Devil'."

They walked confidently across the lobby, with two bellboys carrying their luggage and awaiting orders.

"I hope you got the penthouse suite," Blair told Chuck. The boy nodded. "From someone as demanding as you are, I took that as an obvious point."

"I'm not just high maintenance," the girl retorted and walked into the elevator with Chuck and the bellboys following. "I am a _Waldorf_ and because of that I deserve the best of the best."

Chuck leaned coolly against the clear glass of the elevator and said rather nonchalantly, "It's that kind of speech that you give which gets me started." Blair gave her escort a look of death and replied, "Grass gets you started."

"I suppose. Ah, here we are. We have the whole floor to ourselves," he said and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which made Blair smack her own forehead. "I knew I shouldn't have come."

"Well, I think it's a good thing that you did."

"What was I thinking, going to Las Vegas with _Chuck Bass_?" the chocolate-haired girl continued as if Chuck weren't there. "Serena was right. There must be something wrong with me. I can't do whatever I want without getting myself scorched in the process!"

Blair followed her bellboy and trudged to the biggest room on the floor, which she took as her place of residence for the week. Chuck trailed Blair and stated, "You know, I'm standing right here." The girl whirled around and looked at Chuck suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

His words low, he said, "Why don't we just stop analyzing this?"

She glanced quickly up at him, then away. "I can't. I don't know what to do."

Chuck paused for a long moment and finally said, "I think you can do whatever the fuck you want."

Blair looked up, into his eyes, brown and sharp. His face was calm, his cheeks brushed with the barest stubble, just enough to make him look sinful. His hair, rather long, lay about his head in casual disorder, and his shirt, perfectly pressed, like a devil in disguise. Chuck Bass looked like every mother's nightmare. And every girl's bad boy.

"Whatever I want," Blair repeated, thinking, _How the hell should I know what I want?_

But she _did _know what she wanted, she told herself. Someone like Nate Archibald, but not Nate Archibald. A non-lying Nate. Someone with whom she has something in common.

Chuck's eyebrows twitched and he smirked in such a way that sent her thoughts careering wickedly, away from logic, past common sense, and straight into desire. Heat blasted out through her body and she felt like a tea kettle, steam wafting out from her pores.

_Whatever the fuck I want._

Her body knew what that was. Even Chuck seemed to know what it was. Wasn't that why he was standing here, so close to her? Giving her a look that screamed, _Take what you want, idiot, or do I have to force you to take it?_

She inhaled quickly and exhaled, realizing as she did that she was breathing as if she'd run up the stairs. Her nerves pulsed, electrified.

"Blair," Chuck said, this time in a near whisper.

His hand reached out and skimmed her waist to lie warmly on her hip. With a gentle grip she pulled her toward him.

She swallowed hard and moved forward with her hand, coming up against his chest, her palms flat against his ribcage. She looked up at him, saw that hunger in his eyes, and felt her insides go molten.

She parted her lips. He lowered his head. They kissed.

* * *

**P.S. **How was that for a serious fic? Let me know. Ciao!


	2. Closer

**Disclaimer:**

I don't won anything. I even had "help" from one of my guy friends writing this chapter. :P

**Author's Note:**

This is for Borgie herself. And wow, 11 reviews in a day! Rarely had a threat worked so well. If you're a total prude, do us all a favor and don't read this. As for the timeline, just before they graduate high school would be just right.

* * *

**Recap:**

"Waldorf, have you ever been to Vegas?"

"Why? Are you planning something?"

"Calm down for a while. Take a vacation."

"A vacation? With you around? Is that even possible?"

"Terms and conditions? Jesus, Waldorf, you always have terms and conditions."

"Welcome to Las Vegas, home of sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling and of course; the Devil itself."

"Serena was right. There must be something wrong with me. I can't do whatever I want without getting myself scorched in the process!"

"I think you can do whatever the fuck you want."

* * *

**Seven Nights in Vegas**

by Ashlie Rayuex

(a.k.a. rayeux)

**Chapter Two**

Closer

More often than not, Chuck Bass woke up hating the sun, the birds chirping outside his window, and the slut he usually found in his bed.

But this morning, he woke up feeling greatly refreshed. All thanks to Blair Waldorf.

Maybe he liked her. And maybe that was stupid. But last night was just so effing hot.

The kiss started out frenzied. Her mouth was hungry on his, and he answered with even more energy. Their hands groped, clutched and traveled over each other's bodies, exploring, grasping, needing closer contact.

Chuck felt as if he were going to explode right out of his body. His blood sang, his senses spun, his desire was way out of control.

With great effort he slowed the kiss, running his hands up her back and into the dark softness of her hair, then to the sides of her face.

He sighed against his mouth, and he teased her lips with his teeth and tongue. His hands held her head gently as he tasted her, sending her the message that he wanted to appreciate every slow sip of her.

Her hands moved own his back and rounded over his hips. With surprising strength, she into her and shut a door with a foot. His desire, hard and obvious beneath his jeans, strained toward this oblique touch.

His hands ran down her sides, found the spot at her hips where the shirt tucked into her skirt and pulled upward. His fingers found flesh and she gave a little moan. Her body melted against his.

His hands touched her bra and moved around to cup her breasts. He groaned as he found the nipples peaked against his fingers.

Tilting his head, he trailed his lips to her neck. Just below her ear he took a soft bite and sucked as his fingers softly pinched.

She gasped and pulled him tighter, her hips moving into his.

"The bedroom? He murmured against her ear.

He felt her nod. Slowly, he peeled himself away from her, letting his hands slide down her belly to her hips.

Her face was flushed, her eyes nearly black with dilated pupils. Her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses. And her expression was pure desire. _For him_.

Freeing his hands from her shirt, her cupped her face, then took another long sip from her mouth. She responded like a magnet, leaning into him again, her hands grabbing the belt loops on his slacks and yanking him against her.

"You know where it is." Her voice was light, teasing, and she gave him a heavy-lidded smile that was so seductive it kicked him in the gut. And that was a hundred percent Blair Waldorf.

Taking her hand he led across the foyer into the adjoining bedroom.

She followed him into the room and he closed the door behind them. They fumbled for each other in the dark, clasped hands and drew close.

Chuck's hand took her shirt and pulled it up over her head. Her fingers went for his tie, but got tangled as her ducked to kiss the mound of one breast. He moved the lace of her bra down ward and captured her nipple.

She made a soft sound deep in her throat and gave up on the tie, throwing her head back as his lips pulled her nipple and his tongue played with its peak.

Her hands held his shoulders and she pulled them both backward until he felt her lower herself on the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, the light from the window illuminated the room. He could see her, a dark fluid mass on the bed, her hair spread out around her and her tender skin glowing in the pale moonlight.

He took off his coat, unknotted his tie, and pulled off his own shirt, tossing it somewhere. Then he leaned over and kissed her again, his hands plunging onto the mattress to snake behind her. He undid her bra with a practiced snap and pulled the straps down her arms.

Dropping the bra behind him onto the floor, he felt her hand find his crotch and cup him. Her thumb stroked his erection and groaned. Her other hand unbuttoned his slacks and slid the zipper down.

He slid down the length of her body until he crouched at the side of the bed, his lips and hands trailing from her breasts to her belly to her thighs. He pushed his slacks off with one hand and rose again, kissing her belly button as he undid the top of her skirt.

She raised her hips and he drew her skirt down her legs and off.

"Oh, sweet Jesus." Chuck's voice was horse, a guttural plea for control.

He rose up above her and pushed his erection against the thong's slip of fabric. His lips found her breast, first one, then the other, and she arched into him, her hands holding his head. Then he rose and took her mouth again.

She opened to him hungrily, her legs loosely circling his hips. His hardened shaft in her hands, she stroked it so that he thought he'd lose his mind. Her touch was perfect, magic. Nathaniel did not know how good he used to have it.

Chuck dropped his hand to the thong and sipped a finger easily around it to find the center of her heat.

She was more than ready for him. He plunged two fingers inside her and she pushed her hips up with a soft, high-pitched sound of pleasure. She was slick and soft as silk. His thumb found the spot and moved a slow circle around it.

Blair groaned and rose onto her hands and knees and he pulled the piece of fabric away from her center, moving himself toward it.

He touched the head to her and strangled a moan. She pushed her hips back but he pulled away, teasing. She groaned. He pushed the head against her again, up and back, along her slickest spot, tormenting her silken heat as she moved her hips again. Her leaned over her, bit softly at her shoulder and ran one arm around her stomach. With his other hand he kept the thong aside and positioned himself. Then, body trembling with need, he trust deeply inside her.

Blair inhaled sharply and he pushed again. She arched back into him and cried, "_Yes._"

He thrust again, holding the string of the thong as if barely restraining a wild horse.

The sensation was exquisite. She was tight and hot and wet. He slid effortlessly, deeply, pleasure cascading up his spine as his eyes drank in the lithe form of her back, her tangled hair. Her tight round buttocks moved smoothly, soft and firm, toward him and away, his shaft disappeared again and again into her core.

Curving around her once more, he moved his arm across her belly and his fingers again found her spot, this time swollen and primed for his touch. She made a soft sound as he touched her, his hips still thrusting against her. Then she grabbed him, her body did, down deep, and her uttered an ecstatic cry as she shuddered in his arms. Chuck exploded inside her, pulsing as if every ounce of his soul was being pumped into her body. He gasped, then moaned and, as she lay her body slowly onto the mattress, he came down on top of her, their bodies still joined.

Chuck's mind returned to him and let out a low whistle then smirked as he leaned back on the pillows. _That was hot. Damn hot._

He leaned over Blair and gently whispered, "Hey, Waldorf, I'm going to bed one of those hot maids if you don't get up…"

* * *

**P.S. **Same rules. No reviews, no update. Ciao!


	3. Hal Smith

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own anything... :(

**Author's Note:**

I'm glad to know that ah-lot of people liked my last chapter. It really is flattering. :P But, since Borgie didn't like this chapter so much, I feel as if I failed her. :( Please review.

* * *

**Recap:**

"The bedroom?"

"You know where it is."

"Hey, Waldorf, I'm going to bed one of those hot maids if you don't get up…"

* * *

**Seven Days in Vegas**

by Ashlie Rayuex

(a.k.a. rayeux)

**Chapter Three**

Hal Smith

Blair nestled beneath the sheets and her eyelids fluttered to welcome the sunlight. The boy came closer and smirked. "I knew that would work. Jealous, much?" The chocolate-haired girl moved again.

"Shit! Blair, what the hell?!" Chuck doubled over and fell off the bed. "Oh, _fuck_."

"Karma," Blair said indifferently before cracking a smile. It felt good to have kneed Chuck in the balls. Especially when he wasn't wearing anything. She just wondered why anyone hasn't done it before. She wrapped the sheet around her and trudged off the shower.

"Damnit, Blair!" Chuck howled in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blair said sarcastically.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Blair asked as she was lead into a waiting limo. Chuck closed the door and said, "It's time we had some fun." Blair snorted. "So last night wasn't fun?"

"There's a huge difference between fun and pleasure, B."

"So that's it? I'm just an _accessory_? Merely a _toy_?" Blair laughed hollowly. "I thought-"

"Blair, don't jump into conclusions," Chuck interrupted. "You know you're more than that to me."

"Stop the car," Blair ordered. The chauffeur immediately pulled over and she got out. "Blair, wait!" Chuck yelled. "Women," he muttered while following Blair into a club, partially grateful that he opened this one.

The girl sat down on a bar stool and crossed her legs. "I'll have a vodka on the rocks."

The bartender walked up the Blair and extended his palm. "ID, please." Blair simply slapped her credit card down on the bartender's hand. "Does money talk?" The bartender let out a loud laugh. "This ain't '_Las Vegas' _the telly show, hun. This is real life. And the boss told me not to serve any minors," he said in a southern accent and held up Blair's credit card to the light. "Blair Waldorf, eh?" he commented and gave the plastic card back to her. "I know y'all."

"Do you?"

"Yep," he said and went back to wiping the bar. "Boss comes in and talk 'bout y'all a lot."

"How old are you?"

"21."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Yep. The pretty 'lil redhead over there. Her name's Jesse."

"Who's your boss?"

"Bart Bass' kid. What's his name again? Oh yeah, Charles Bass. By the way, my name's Hal Smith. Nice to meet y'all."

Blair slumped down on the bar. "I'm sorry, Hal. I know I'm keeping you from your other customers."

"No problem, 'lil missy. Lots of the girls up the stage come runnin' to the bar here after playin' with the boss. Besides, there are no other customers now," Hal told her.

"Can I please have a drink? I need something alcoholic," Blair whined. Hal shook his head. "No."

"I'll buy the lady whatever she wants," a voice said from behind her. "No can do," Hal told the stranger. "She's a minor."

Blair got up and looked the stranger in the eye. "Also, I don't take drinks from strangers. And look at yourself! You're hideous, you're filthy, you smell like crap, and most importantly, you look as if high living were a trip to the pigsty." She started to walk away, but the strange man grabbed her wrist. "Sit," he commanded. The Blair stuck her nose up. "Why should I, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, take orders from a glorified bastard? Get your filthy hands off me!" Blair snapped and tried to escape the vice-like grip. "Let the girl go," Hal said as he vaulted over the bar to Blair's side. "Smith, you know better than to defy me," the strange man said.

"Security!" someone yelled.

Blair took advantage of the distraction and ran to the source of the cry. "Chuck," pointed to the cause of havoc at the bar. Chuck motioned for the guards to take the man away. As soon as the club buzzed again, Blair faced him. "Thanks. I guess I-"

She was interrupted by a torrent of gunshots outside the club.

"Where's the girl?!" the same man roared at the club as he slammed open the doors. The crowd hushed and stared at each other. "I asked you where the damn girl is! The one with the curly brown hair!" The crowd cleared the path for the man. Blair cowered and took a step back behind Chuck. "Do something," she whispered.

Chuck suddenly took a gun out from his coat and aimed it at the culprit. "It's over, hotshot. Take your minions and leave."

The gangster grabbed someone from the crowd and cocked the gun at the person's head.

"Hal!" Blair cried out. The mob boss nodded and placed a finger on the trigger. "Nobody make a move, or it's Smith's life." The guilty party walked backwards out the door, still holding on the Hal. "Charles Bass, meet us downtown at the racetrack at dusk tomorrow. If you win, you get your bartender back. If I win, I get the girl and your bartender dies." With that, the gang closed the doors of the bar and disappeared into the night.

Blair looked at Chuck meaningfully. "What the hell was that?" she demanded, which made Chuck laugh. "That, is Las Vegas. Now let's go buy a car for the race tomorrow."

"Do the world a favor and don't go Speedracer on us."

* * *

**P.S. **I don't know if this is twisted enough. Please flame me.


	4. Brewing Trouble Downtown

**Disclaimer:**

Must I really...?

**Author's Note:**

I know it's over three weeks, but thing around here have just been so hectic. I'm now starting my senior year (vacation here is from March-May, but I'm helping out some orgs) and life is more chaotic! I'm gonna be reasonable and post this chapter without getting my ten reviews. I know the last chapter sucked, and I just hope this one will be better. I'M SORRY, BORGIE! FORGIVE THE SLAVE! I also apologize for not posting chapter 5 and 6.

* * *

**Recap:**

"Shit! Blair, what the hell?! Oh, _fuck_."

"So last night wasn't fun?"

"There's a huge difference between fun and pleasure, B."

"So that's it? I'm just an _accessory_? Merely a _toy_?"

"Blair, wait!"

"ID, please."

"Does money talk?"

"This ain't '_Las Vegas' _the telly show, hun. This is real life. And the boss told me not to serve any minors."

"Who's your boss?"

"Bart Bass' kid. What's his name again? Oh yeah, Charles Bass. By the way, my name's Hal Smith. Nice to meet y'all."

"I'll buy the lady whatever she wants."

"Why should I, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, take orders from a glorified bastard? Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Security! It's over, hotshot. Take your minions and leave."

"What the hell was that?"

"That, is Las Vegas. Now let's go buy a car for the race tomorrow."

* * *

**Seven Days in Vegas**

by Ashlie Rayuex

(a.k.a. rayeux)

**Chapter Four**

Brewing Trouble Downtown

Blair sighed and leaned back against the plush limo seat. "Chuck, you never did explain to me what the hell happened last night. You know, all that trouble over buying me a drink."

Chuck kept silent then picked up the wine glass in front of him and took a sip. _Bordeaux '94. Not bad._ "Listen, Blair, it's easy to find a bartender in Las Vegas, but it's never easy to find a good one. My club revolves around the bar. If Hal's gone, I lose all the profit should I get an incompetent bartender next time."

"Is that all there is to it? Profit? I swear, no one could be more coldhearted."

"No, that isn't it. As much as I hate to admit it, he's a very good listener."

"So I've been told."

Chuck put down his glass and faced her. "What?"

Blair took her Sidekick out for cover from Chuck's penetrating gaze. "Nothing."

"Who are you texting with?"

"Serena," she lied. "But what about the gun? I never would have expected that."

Chuck took the gun out again. "This is the _Colt Police Positive Special in .38_. It's a classic model and every inch of it is fake."

"What?" Blair snapped. "You pulled out a _fake _gun in front of those pigs? If they knew you could have been killed! God, Chuck! Have you gone over the edge?"

"Well, it works," the boy said, shrugging. "You can't argue with results."

"I don't know why I even like you."

"Like me or love me?" Chuck said as the teasing glint in his eye returned. The Waldorf heiress looked down and fidgeted with her hands, trying to avoid the question. "I... We're here!" Blair suddenly announced and flung the door open. She got out and looked around her. _How Tokyo Drift,_ she thought as she took in the bystanders, the bad guys, and race track and the cars.

"Welcome, Miss Walden."

"It's Wal_dorf_."

Chuck stepped out. "Is my car here?"

"It better be," Blair muttered as Chuck pulled her over to a silver number. "This," he said proudly. "Is my baby. It's the latest Aston Martin, has a 6.0 liter, and a V12 engine. I present to you the Vanquish S." Blair raised an eyebrow. "You _do_ realize that I didn't grasp what you just said, right?" The boy ignored her. "Moreover, how can a sports car you just bought _yesterday_ be your pride and glory?" she continued.

"I just said it was my baby, not my pride, life and glory."

"I just said it was your pride and glory, not your pride, **life** and glory."

"Blair, don't be childish."

"I could say the same thing to you!"

"Let's not fight," Chuck said in his 'come-and-sleep-with-me' tone.

"Just shut up and drive," Blair hissed in her 'you-have-embarrassed-me-for-the-last-time' tone.

"Ah, young love," someone said. "I remember when I was your age, I also fought like this with my girlfriend."

"Unbelievable," the girl quipped. The boy nodded in agreement. "We can't believe that someone as _foul _as you can have a girlfriend. You know what, if you weren't capable of rape you would still be a virgin."

The man from the night before laughed. "So you caught me in a lie." He pulled out a gun once more. "But you didn't catch my lie yesterday." He pointed the gun at Chuck. "This race isn't real. I've already killed Hal and dumped him in some... dumpster." Blair raised a hand to her mouth and tried her best not to laugh. Stupid, much? The man glared at her. "Now I want the girl."

"You've never played fair," Chuck frowned.

The man laughed. "Touché, my boy." He laughed some more.

_Perfect,_ Chuck thought. And in one smooth movement, he shot the man and grabbed Blair's hand. "Run faster, Blair!" he shouted. "It's not easy to do that in Manolo Blahniks!" she shrieked.

"Then take them off!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Take your shoes off!"

"What? No!"

"It's either you or the shoes! Choose one!"

Blair kicked off her heels and ran with Chuck to the car. "You owe me a pair of Manolos," she panted as they strapped themselves in. "Remind me," he said. "But right now, let's see what this baby can do."

* * *

"God," Blair muttered a prayer. "Save us from the claws of evil."

"I thought you weren't really Catholic," Chuck said, keeping his eyes on the road.

The Waldorf turned on the radio. "I'm not. I'm a Buddhist," she said in a perfect deadpan.

"You are? That's something new," he stated, clearly not getting it.

"No, you idiot. I lied. The same way you lied to me about the gun."

"Okay," Chuck confessed. "So it's a real gun. Now what?"

"I don't have shoes," Blair said to no one in particular. Chuck looked at her. "There should be a pair below the back seat." She raised an eyebrow once more. "Yes, Blair. I know what you're thinking. Why is there a pair of shoes below the back seat of a car I just purchased yesterday? Because I told the chauffeur to put all my basketball gear there." The hazel-eyed girl gave him a look. "So you mean I have to wear _your _**rubber shoes**?"

"There are socks and I don't have athlete's foot, B."

The girl sighed resignedly and put on the footwear lent to her. "Not that, Chuck. I don't _do_ rubber shoes and they don't go with my outfit. And we don't have the same shoe size, thank God. I want to go home. I don't want to be the victim of a kidnapping or a shootout."

"Nobody does. But right now, the closest thing we have to a home is the hotel."

"Won't they follow us there?"

"Why don't we find out?"

* * *

**P.S. **Cliffhanger!Is that bad? Or more importantly, is my story bad? Review!


	5. Bipolar

**Disclaimer:**

Okay, so I don't own anything. But should that stop me?

**Author's Note:**

The sequel to another sucky chapter. But seriously, if I don't get ten reviews on this one, I'm sooo gonna delete this story. Oh yes, Chuck and Blair are going to be OOC in this chapter. Borgie decided that it needs more fluff.

* * *

**Recap:**

"I swear, no one could be more coldhearted."

"As much as I hate to admit it, he's a very good listener."

"But what about the gun? I never would have expected that."

"It's a classic model and every inch of it is fake."

"You pulled out a _fake _gun in front of those pigs?"

"You can't argue with results."

"Unbelievable."

"Run faster, Blair!"

"It's not easy to do that in Manolo Blahniks!"

"It's either you or the shoes! Choose one!"

"I have to wear _your _**rubber shoes**?"

* * *

**Seven Days in Vegas**

_by Ashlie Rayuex_

_(a.k.a. rayeux)_

**Chapter Five**

Bipolar

The whole fiasco was his entire fault. If he hadn't dragged her here, she would have been sleeping over at Serena's now. Or better yet, she would have been safe. He continued pacing and frowned at the sand-like carpet.

"God, Chuck! Would you stop pacing for even a _fraction_ of the second? It's very agitating," she snapped.

Chuck stopped and turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Blair. But why don't _you _try to think of a safe way to get the one you love out of this place? It's like you don't even acknowledge my efforts!"

Blair's eyes softened. "W-what did you s-say?" she stammered. The boy clad in Burberry faced the window and glowered at the bright streets of Las Vegas. He sighed and crossed his arms before speaking again. "I just said that you acted like my efforts aren't worth anything," he said, calming down. He could never get fully mad at Blair.

"No, before that."

Chuck froze. What was it that he had said? "Nothing," he mumbled, hoping that Blair would just drop the subject. "Dinner?" he asked her. "You must be hungry. We've had a long day."

Blair raised an eyebrow. Was this guy bipolar? _One minute he's fuming at me and the next he asks me out for dinner._ She sighed and changed into yet another pair of Manolos. "Please." _Definitely bipolar._

* * *

"Aren't you hungry?" the doe-eyed girl asked Chuck as she picked her salad. "You've barely touched your food." Her eyes traveled to his Coke. "And you never drink Coke. Just brandy. There's something wrong, isn't there?" Blair placed her hand on top of his and his gaze met hers. "You can tell me," she said softly. She put her Sidekick on the table and smiled. "There. You can be sure I won't tell Gossip Girl."

"It's nothing, B."

"Are you worried? You shouldn't be."

"Chuck Bass doesn't get worried."

"Uh-huh."

"Do you doubt me?"

"Yes."

"So you don't trust me?" he asked. "Not even a bit?"

Blair laughed openly. "If I didn't trust you, why would I allow you to take me here?"

"I had to persuade you," he muttered.

"You convinced me, didn't you?"

Chuck had nothing to say to her rebuttal. "I'm getting us back to New York," he changed the topic. "I don't like the way people look at you here," he said, more to himself than to Blair.

"Are you jealous?" she asked, slightly amused.

"More than you'll ever know or comprehend." Maybe it was the lack of alcohol. Maybe he _was_ worried about Blair. Whatever it was, he was ready to come clean. "I think I love you, Waldorf."

The girl bit her lip and stared at the boy across her. She didn't know what to make of his sudden confession. _Does Chuck Bass and love even belong in the same world?_ She thought not. But she was happy. Ecstatic, even. There were only so many things she wanted to tell him at that moment. But she told him the first thing that entered her mind.

"I think I love you too, Bass."

They leaned over the table and kissed, earning glares from a few patrons near them. The kiss was gentle, extremely so for Chuck Bass, and he loved it. But he loved it just because it was Blair. Had it been any other girl, he would have thrown her on the table and screwed her right there and then; damn viewer discretion. He decided that from now on, with Blair he would be careful; he didn't want to break her. He never would. She was his air, his breath, his reason for living; he knew that no ordinary person could take her away from him, no matter how hard they tried.

"_Ahem._" someone coughed, begging for their attention.

The boy cursed inwardly as Blair broke away, allowing the waiter to take away their plates and give them the bill. Chuck quickly paid and scowled at the poor soul, unhappy at the unfortunate timing. He would never set foot in the restaurant again.

The moment the couple stepped out of the restaurant and were away from its stuffy atmosphere, Chuck crushed Blair in his arms. "Are you serious?" he asked, still unbelieving that this angel was really in love with him, the devil who resided within the deepest recesses of this hellish land called Las Vegas.

* * *

**P.S. **So... Tell me what you think!!**  
**


	6. Apologies Here and There

**Apologies Here and There**

**by rayeux**

* * *

The heater wasn't working, and it was cold. So cold. Blair sighed and snuggled (yes, _snuggled_) into Chuck's warm embrace in an effort to keep herself from freezing. "I'm so tired, Chuck... I don't think I can keep this up any longer..."

"I don't think I can either," the boy sighed and kissed her hair. "It's been too long. I'm sick of waiting." They both sat in silence, staring at the cars that passed by at what seemed to be the speed of light. "Is there something wrong with us?" the chocolate-haired girl questioned, only to be answered by her lover's silence. "Why'd she stop? She used to love us. I don't understand..."

Chuck placed a hand on the steering wheel. "People grow up, Blair. We both knew she was going to leave us eventually. We both knew she was going to forget us and..."

"And what?" she looked him in his beautiful brown eyes. "And push us to the side? Just like we never existed?" He opened his mouth only to have her cut him off. "Don't you dare, Bass. Don't you even _dare _try to remind me that she tried to apologize! She left us here to _rot_! Don't tell me that you can just take the crap she has thrown at us!"

"Blair--"

"Listen to me, Chuck! I can't take this and I know you can't either. We're _Blair Waldorf _and _Chuck Bass_."

The boy smirked. "You're right. We can get back at Rayeux for leaving us in this godforsaken city. We can _speak_ to the readers. Ask them to continue our story."

Blair grabbed his shirt and dragged his lips down to hers. "God, I love you," she murmured, her lips brushing against him with every word she spoke.

* * *

_Dear Readers,_

_ Greetings and salutations. As you have read earlier, that idiot author has discontinued out story; and frankly, we're not very pleased with it. Rayeux put us through so much-- only for her to just stop in the middle it all._

_ So we beseech you: PM Rayeux. Tell her you want to continue our tale. She'll surely agree. Stupid girl might even be happy that someone else wants to finish where she left off._

_ We thank you for your time._

_Regards,_

* * *

Chuck grabbed the pen from Blair's hand and hastily signed his name on the note.

"Chuck!" Blair chided. "I'm the one that wrote the letter for us! You could have at least let me sign my name first! After all, I _am _more important than you are."

"Males have more significance in this world," he retorted.

"You sexist imbecile!" Blair backhanded his chest and forced him to release a small yelp. "And Blair comes before Chuck."

The said male leaned until their noses touched. "Sorry, B," he said, his hot breath fanning all over her face. "Everyone alphabetizes using family names and Bass comes before Waldorf." He pressed the pen into her delicate hand. "End of discussion."

And that was it.

* * *

_Chuck Bass  
Blair Waldorf_

_P.S. We'll even bet that she hasn't apologized to you, dear readers; so take us off her hands and do what you will. _


End file.
